


return address

by strangelysweet



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bickering, Heist, Jealousy, London, London Underground, Love Letters, M/M, Making Out, Museums, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romantic Gestures, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Vampires, Victorian Flower Language, and therefore they will take the tube, i have relocated them to london, not me pushing my fashionable goro akechi agenda on y'all, yes this does mean you will listen to my opinions on the lines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28470810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangelysweet/pseuds/strangelysweet
Summary: "You have got to be fucking kidding me," Goro exclaims, peering closer through the glass. "That's your fucking handwriting!"Ren shakes his head. "No, it's not.""Liar." His companion states, and much to Ren's disappointment, he's right.That is indeed Ren's handwriting, and that is indeed Ren's letter, and now, it's nestled in a cozy glass case at the Victoria and Albert Museum. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and bends down a little closer to the glass case. He really needs to get Goro away from this exhibit. It was a shitty idea anyway, but this really takes the cake.------After discovering the V&A has an exhibit on love throughout the ages with their friends as many examples, Goro and Ren take a trip down to the museum, only to realize the exhibit has something they want back.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Kurusu Akira & Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Comments: 15
Kudos: 103





	return address

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Goro exclaims, peering closer through the glass. "That's your fucking handwriting!" 

Ren shakes his head. "No, it's not." 

"Liar." His companion states, and much to Ren's disappointment, he's right. 

That is indeed Ren's handwriting, and that is indeed Ren's letter, and now, it's nestled in a cozy glass case at the Victoria and Albert Museum. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and bends down a little closer to the glass case. He _really_ needs to get Goro away from this exhibit. It was a shitty idea anyway, but this really takes the cake. He thinks back to this morning when the flyer from the Museum was posted through their mail slot. 

They didn't live with each other because they were together. Well, Ren and Goro _were_ together, but they weren't _together_. Modern-day vampires don't do well by themselves, and they usually got lonely, so it wasn't uncommon for two or more of them to share a home. It just so happened that Goro was looking for a roommate, and Ren was new in London after a nasty eviction from Paris involving holy water and flying sponges. They had known each other for a while, and, in fact, Goro was the one who turned him, which was something Ren would be eternally grateful for. They wrote to each other over the years and eventually lost touch after the incident in São Paulo. They don't _ever_ talk about São Paulo. 

Ren had come down into the kitchen, rummaging around the fridge for one of the blood packs Futaba had sent them for Samhain, and then he saw it: bright red and pink, dotted with little love hearts around the edges, was the flyer. 

"Love throughout the ages." Ren read aloud, then promptly snorted at the example of the exhibit on the front. "That's Ann's first wedding ring." 

The ring was indeed Ann's wedding ring for when she married that awful count for the estate she has in Finland. Switching the kettle on, he leaned against the counter as he flipped through the flyer, a smirk of amusement on his face as he read through all of his friend's most embarrassing acts of love. There's Yusuke's painting of a mistress of the Tsar of Russia in 1845, Haru's locket she made for Makoto when they first met, and under the circumstances, that was forced to throw overboard. The locket was coated in salt and rust, and the silver coating had scorch marks around the back of it due to the sensitive nature of Makoto's undead skin. 

Goro drifted in from the living room, fastening his dressing gown in a loose knot. The translucent fabric rustled as he opens the cupboard across from Ren, and scratches littered his back, still red from the night before. The sight of them set Ren's teeth on edge as if he would tear into the flesh of anything close to him at that given moment, purely out of spite. He didn't really care that Goro's way of hunting involved whatever poor soul was dragged into his awaiting clutches, not really. The kettle started whistling, and as Ren fixated on the scratches, he felt his hands clench the countertop. 

"Turn that damned thing off," Goro muttered, holding a hand to his head as he gulped down a mix of egg yolks and pickle juice, grimacing as he did so. 

Realizing the shrill shriek of the kettle wasn't his own mental screaming, Ren turned around and lifted the kettle from the hob, pouring out his breakfast. "Looks like you had fun last night." 

Goro rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't you start." 

"You went on for _hours_ , and if I'm being honest, I'm impressed." Ren sniped, "Quite the stamina you have there. Did you get your fill?" 

Just as Goro was about to give a sharp retort, a young woman in a large t-shirt came in, her dark hair fashioned into a long braid. Her eyes widened as she saw Ren leaning against the counter, her face coloring. 

"Ah, uh, good morning," She stammered. "Sleep well?" 

"Like the dead." Ren drawled, giving her an unfriendly look. 

She fidgeted with the end of her braid, then turned to Goro, who gave her a bright smile as if he wasn't harboring a hangover that would kill a large rodent. 

"Don't mind my roommate." He waved vaguely in Ren's direction. "He's just bitter that no one likes him because he's _rude_ and _antisocial_." 

Flipping him off, Ren took a sip of his mug, then turned on his heel. "Love you, too." 

Before he left the room, he caught the withering look Goro sent his way before promptly returning to his snack. Not even an hour later, he heard the front door shut and the sound of cursing echoing through the halls. 

"Fucking hell," Goro muttered, "all over the fucking counter." 

Not even looking up from the book he was reading, Ren called out from the library. "Did you make a mess? What have I told you about playing with your food?" 

"Suck a dick, Ren," Was the reply. 

Looking up from the top of his book, the dark-haired vampire saw his roommate rushing around the hallway between the kitchen and the library, blood dripping from his mouth and hands. Sighing, Ren got up, placing his book down, and walking into the kitchen to survey the catastrophe. It was rather unlike Goro to have been this messy, and if he was being honest, Ren was a little bit worried. Nevertheless, he poked his head around the corner, calling out to Goro as he bustled down the hall. 

"Do you need help?" Glaring fiercely at him, Goro didn't even answer. Ren rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry I ruined the mood for you and your food this morning. I'll clean up, but you have to make it up to me by doing me a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Goro asked as he sprayed down the tiled wall with white vinegar. 

As he looked around, Ren's eye was drawn to the obnoxious flyer once again. "Come to an exhibit with me. At the V&A."

Goro looked over his shoulder at the flyer on the kitchen table, picking it up with his bloodied hands like an animal. "'Love throughout the ages?'"

Sighing, the dark-haired vampire walked over to his roommate, dabbing his face with a dishcloth. "Thought we might enjoy seeing our friends' pathetic attempt at courtship." 

And that was how Ren and Goro found themselves walking around the V&A, occasionally pointing out themselves in portraits they had commissioned or busts they had seen in the making. An old painting of Ren's time as a Baron in France brought a flush to his face, seeing as the Romantic period did like their flowing shirts and dramatic cliffs. The experience was akin to having an embarrassing picture of one as a child shown to guests at a party. 

"Is that really you?" Goro peered closer, glancing over at Ren's face to compare. 

Sighing, Ren nodded ashamedly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm afraid so. Just be glad you didn't see the first draft. There was a lot more skin than this one." 

"I find that rather hard to believe," His companion mused, a teasing smirk growing on his face, "that shirt barely covers your body, and, if I'm not mistaken, you still have those trousers." 

"If you're going to tease me about how tight the pants were in the painting, take into account that I already know. They _are_ small, and to be honest, it's a little difficult to fit things in the pockets." Ren griped, attempting to shove his hands into said pockets. 

Striding past the painting, Goro gave him a wry smile. "You have no shame, Amamiya." 

After much browsing and a few stops to gaze longingly at old estates and manors, Ren and Goro finally made their way over to the exhibit. It was decked out in long swathes of red fabric from the ceiling, gold paper doves hanging from every colonnade. Wrinkling his nose and pulling his long, leather jacket's collar, Goro surveyed the scene with the face of someone who had sucked off a lemon. Ren snorted, then nodded over to the entrance, adjusting his gloves. 

"Come on, you've got the tickets, don't you?" He asked as they approached the front desk. 

Rolling his eyes, the vampire fished around his wallet for said papers, tapping the toe of his heeled boot. Letting out an affirming hum, he slid the tickets across the counter. A faint trail of blood followed them, and Ren sighed, watching on with creeping dread, as he realized that Goro failed to clean them up in the kitchen. Looking up with a confused stare, the desk clerk's hands shied away from the blood-flecked slips. Goro gave them a poor imitation of a smile, baring his teeth like a growling cat. 

"Oh, sweet fucking Hecate," Ren muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Picking up the tickets with their index finger and thumb, the clerk awkwardly scanned them with the device, then all but tossed them back to Goro. 

"I'm so sorry," Ren said, "he's such an animal sometimes." 

"N-No, really, sir, it's fine." The clerk said, waving their hands in front of their chest. 

Taking Ren by the arm, Goro nodded towards the entrance, his voice bordering on a growl. "Come now, Ren, don't keep up the line."

Mouthing apologies to the poor clerk, Ren found himself being dragged away by his companion, Goro's fingers digging into the sleeve of his vinyl trenchcoat. Ren sighed as they passed through the archway into the exhibit. A passing man muttering into walkie talkie clipped past Ren's shoulder, and his scent tugged him forward, sweet and complex. 

"And you say _I'm_ the animal," Goro scoffed, "I ought to put you on a leash."

Rolling his eyes, Ren placed a hand to his mouth, the pad of his finger tracing over the tips of his canines. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Goro didn't answer. The square hall tapered off into a small corridor leading to a room surrounded on all sides by bouquets of flowers, a quick plaque on Victorian flower language in the middle. Goro walked over to one of the glass cases, then tapped the glass lightly with his knuckles. 

"How unfortunate. Yellow roses have been listed under their romance section." He mused, his tone cold. "Nowadays, people have no respect for history."

Ren scoffed. "Stop pouting. You never liked the language of flowers anyway." 

Narrowing his eyes, Goro looped his arm through the crook of Ren's elbow, a habit he never dropped from the early eighteenth century. "I am not pouting. You're projecting onto me because you're disappointed that you've grown soft enough to let prey go so easily." 

Goro led him to the next room, examining the old lockets and small picture frames with disdain as Ren spluttered. "Oh, because I'll just crack a mortal open in the V&A, now, will I? You're stealing words from your therapist, who you killed and _ate_ , by the way, so please don't lecture me on eating habits." 

"I'm thinking less of a leash and more of a muzzle, now. You'd do well to be disciplined." The vampire peered closer at an old locket, frowning slightly. 

Deadpan, Ren let out a world-weary sigh. "Oh, please. Refrain from seducing me in public, will you?" 

Surprisingly, he didn't receive a scathing retort. Instead, engrossed in staring a hole through the glass case, Goro stared at a small, round locket, a marred and discolored picture in it. Ren glanced down at him, then back at the locket. 

"Do you know who's in that picture?" He asked, but before he could lean down to check who was in the small photograph, Goro whisked him away and over to a small painting of a familiar face. 

"Isn't that your friend Ryuji?" 

Upon closer inspection, yes, it was indeed Ryuji. Definitely a sight for sore eyes, Ren recalled a summer in France with his friend on the River Seine, lounging underneath a large parasol with Ann. They were notorious during the 1920s, as Ren had come into a large fortune from a mortal who found him terribly entertaining, finally putting a bit of emphasis on his Marquis title. Old vampires are often of noble lineage, and Ren is not only the Marquis du Ponté but an English Baron of Richmond. Before he spent time in Europe, however, he was a well-regarded noble back in Japan. Ren's titles are nothing compared to Goro's lofty Prince of Agder from his time in Scandanavia, although when he was first turned in Japan, Goro was a lowly commoner. Ren knows better than to ask him about it, let alone tease him, as he knows how difficult it is to be reminded of the days when one was alone. 

The trip down the Seine was one of the best journeys he's ever had, and the small, pocket-sized portrait of Ryuji brought back pleasant memories. "You're right. It _is Ryuji_. He'd love to see this." 

Sniffing with a cold tone of disdain, Goro made a sour face. "Warn me before you call him. If I don't prepare myself, I might burst a blood vessel." 

Proceeding into the next room, Ren frowned. "You don't have any blood." 

"The act of listening to Sakamoto Ryuji speak strips you of your immortality and drains you of your vampiric powers," Goro stated, examining the paintings of nobles and their respective lovers on the wall. "Oh, look, it's me." 

As he looked up, Ren's eyes met with a cold, deep red stare. Goro's portrait was magnificent and decadent. He sat in the middle, a bored expression on his face as milkmaids and knights alike flocked to his side. As much as he hated to admit it, just seeing the adoring stares of his suitors back in the seventeenth century made Ren's head swim with a headache he couldn't quite place the pain on. His jaw tightened as he swallowed back a low snarl. 

"It looks nice." He said, teeth gritted and tone falling flat. 

Frowning, Goro glanced sideways at him. "You don't like it?" 

"I never said that." He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "I said it looked nice."

Their words bounced off the walls of the empty room, barely drowning out the quiet echoes of chatter from the next hallway. As Goro adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, he raised an eyebrow at the scowl on Ren's face. 

"Are you sulking?" He demands, "I feel like you're sulking." 

When he didn't answer, Goro examined his nails, glancing up at the portrait with icy disapproval. "I don't like it either. The carnage after the painting was done was impressive, though. All of them were drunk off of a _wonderful_ Malaga and, by Eris, what a good bottle that was." 

Ren shoved his hands in his pockets. Jealousy simmered underneath his skin like a pale imitation of boiling blood, fizzing and crackling like a shaken bottle of champagne. "Sounds like a great time."

Instead of retorting to Ren's cold tone with an equally biting retort, Goro looks down at his hands, gently holding one in the other like one would handle an injured bird. "I distinctly remember wanting you there." 

Neither of them moved for a moment. Ren looked at Goro with an expression akin to regret and homesickness, but he felt like if he tried to put a name to it, he'd lose it. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to be mortal once again and in the presence of someone you couldn't live without, Ren shifted his weight from one leg to the other. What would it be like, he wondered, if he could feel the warmth radiating from Goro's skin? What would it feel like to have his heart quicken as his companion turned to look at him, eyes softening? 

He felt nothing in his chest. No stuttering heartbeat. No rush of blood to his face. Nothing but cold, dead skin. As Goro slipped his arm through Ren's once more, he tore his eyes away from the older vampire's, choosing instead to focus on the archway in front of them. 

"We all want things we can't have." He stated simply. 

The next room held love letters. Unknowingly walking into the undoing of his very own plan for keeping his feelings as dead as the heart that lay in his chest, Ren bit his lip as he stared at Goro. After having recalled the events of this morning, Ren watches in trepidation as Goro peers down at his spidery handwriting, attempting to make out what it says through the glare of the lights on the glass. 

"Well, you certainly didn't hold back." He muses, laughing softly. 

Ren rolls his eyes, trying not to die again from shame. "Shut up." 

"My, my. 'Ink is never enough. Ink cannot spill into the heart, only onto the fingertips, which will suffice for now if Morpheus takes pity on my dreaming flesh - '" Goro reads aloud, his smirk growing wider by the minute. 

"Are you done?" Ren asks, his voice hoarse as he tries to keep his composure. 

Straightening up, Goro gives him an incorrigible grin, tapping the underside of Ren's chin. "Well, well, well. Judging from how you reacted just then, those _are_ your letters. Which lover was it?" 

Swallowing, Ren wrenches his head away from Goro's hand, knowing fully well that if he wasn't bloodless, he'd be pink in the face. "None of your business."

Narrowing his eyes in downright evil amusement, Goro all but purrs as he runs his index finger over his bottom lip, sharp canines glimmering in the light. "Was it the lovely French girl from Strasbourg? No? Maybe the musician from New Orleans? Oh, wait, don't tell me, it was the Greek poet, wasn't it? Now, he was absolutely _delectable_." 

"It - It wasn't any of them," Ren admits. 

Much to his displeasure, he remembers the night he wrote the letter with excruciating detail, feverish with the toxins that slowly killed him and brought him back to life. Every movement his hands made, from writing the name at the top of the paper, sliding over his own skin, to the final feeling of heat as Ren had burned that letter. Or so he thought, as the singed paper sits in the glass case like a reminder that his final moments of humanity were wasted on unrequited feelings. 

"Well, dearest, don't keep me waiting." Goro looks at him like an attack dog eyes a rabbit, awaiting an answer to satisfy him. 

The pet name makes Ren's skin feel as if it's covered in sugar, glistening, and energizing. How Goro's eyes shine doesn't help with the effect. Ren finds himself under the impression that he's about to be eaten, which is rather undignifying. "I don't - Oh, for the sake of Hecate, just read the damn letter and find out. I need a cigarette." 

Not even remotely caring that the security cameras can see every angle of the room, he scowls as he poofs into a cloud of dark mist, creeping through a window in the nearest hallway to the smoking area. The skies are grey as Ren rummages around the pockets of his trenchcoat, pulling out a box of cigarettes and his lighter. Flicking it open, he watches the flame leap into the air like a poised dancer, lighting the end of his cigarette. As he takes a long drag, he closes his eyes, and the letter beams back up at him, as fresh as the day he wrote it. 

Ren sees the name scrawled at the top. It's the same name he called into his hand, muffling gasps and heavy breathing, the night in Lille after he first met him. It was inevitable after seeing him at that damned ball, glimmering like a carnelian gem amongst white linens and silks, sharp and alluring. Ren was young and alive, a flush in his cheeks and a pulse in his neck as he introduced himself to the tall stranger. His manners were impeccable, although something about him was rough and vicious, like the edge of a knife. 

"Akechi Goro." He had said in impeccable French, and Ren didn't miss the way his tongue flicked over the tips of his canines, mouth upturned just so. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

Ren shook his head, smiling back. "The pleasure is mine. Amamiya Ren." 

It was a lavish banquet Haru had hosted for her friends and her father's trading company, but they didn't even stay long enough to see her. Goro took one look at the maze and gardens and stole away into the darkness, dragging Ren along with him. It wasn't long until he was pinned up against the marble of a colonnade by an elaborately carved fountain, grasping the back of Goro's jacket like a lifeline as they kissed. 

He banishes the thought from his head. His companion takes no heed to the unbeating hearts of the dead. The letter was meant to go unsent and destroyed, but it was only half-way there. Goro should have finished reading it by now, he thinks, taking a drag of his cigarette and flicking his ash onto the floor. As if on cue, a hand plucks the cigarette from his fingers. Goro raises it to his mouth, then looks at Ren through his eyelashes as he exhales, smoke curling around his face like the grey hands of a statue. 

" _Well_." He says, eloquent as ever. 

As he takes the cigarette back from him, Ren raises his eyebrows. "'Well,' indeed. Did you find what you were -"

Grabbing him by the lapels of his coat, Goro leans in, kissing him hard as he pushes Ren against the wall, sending the cigarette flying to the floor. Against his better judgment, Ren finds himself running his hands through Goro's hair, humming into his mouth as a tongue darts over his lip. As he angles his head to the side, Goro's teeth click against Ren's as he kisses him deeper, grinning as he hears a quiet moan. 

Breaking away, the brown-haired vampire stays close, the tip of his nose brushing against Ren's. "I want my letter back." 

"You," He repeats, reeling from the kiss, "want your letter back? What? How?"

A finger trails down the side of his face, then gently tilts his chin upward. "How do you think? They won't hand it over if I ask nicely." 

Spluttering, Ren shakes his head. "You're not seriously thinking about robbing the _fucking_ _V &A _for a bloody letter, are you?" 

"Not me, dearest." Goro grins. "Us."


End file.
